


The Twilight Years

by LiteraryMinion



Category: Angel: the Series, Twilight Series - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryMinion/pseuds/LiteraryMinion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel gets his team to investigate what he believes to be a possessed film. It's called Twilight. He and Spike go see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is NOT a reference to Twilight the sentient dimension from the Buffy comics. I haven't read those, but I'm aware that character exists.
> 
> It's slightly AU due to timing issues. The real Twilight novel was published in 2005, but for the purposes of this story it was published a few years earlier. The story is set circa season 5 episode 11.5 of Angel, right after "Damage" and before "You're Welcome."
> 
> Comments on character voices are particularly appreciated; this was originally an exercise on keeping voices in-character.

“Alright then, Nancy Boy. Gang’s all here. What’s the Big Bad of the week?”

“Spike.” Angel grimaced at the leech on his ass, who had propped up his filthy-booted feet on the desk. The older vampire glared at him pointedly, and promptly shoved them back off. Spike frowned, but quickly resettled himself in the plush red chair, which he’d helpfully resituated closer to the desk (the better to harass Angel, of course).

Angel redirected his attention to address the rest of his team, who had assembled around his office. He glanced at them each in turn; Fred leaned casually against the closed panels of the conference room, still in her labcoat, and Gunn stood beside her, already checking his watch. Lorne leaned against the wall closer to the desk, his water bottle in hand, and Wes had posted himself nearest the door with his arms folded.

Perhaps they would’ve been more enthused if Angel hadn’t so unceremoniously yanked them out of their routine work with no indication what the emergency was. Angel, however, couldn’t care less. In fact, he had just the slightest hint of a buzz, or as much of one as the brooding creature of the night could ever muster. It just felt right, having them all here, with this case for them all to work on together. As he observed his A-team all clustered into the room, he actually managed the hint of a smile. Sure, their enthusiasm was lacking, but once they got into the case, he reasoned, everything would be fine. A real case, just like Angel Investigations did all the time. He inhaled deeply, more for self-soothing than necessity, being undead.

“We have some kind of possessed film.” He paused, and shrugged a little hesitantly. “It’s… less of a Big Bad, more of a minor bad.”

“Possessed _film_? Demons can do inanimate objects?” Gunn said dubiously.

“What? You didn’t notice the copier on the fourth floor?”

“Spike.” Angel said again, his voice rising in warning.

“So the bad-us minimus is inhabiting a film. Seems like a good way to get to new victims. Is it contagious or quick-breeding? Maybe trying to hypnotize people?” Fred asked thoughtfully.

“Unconfirmed,” Angel said solemnly.

“Well, what sort of film are we discussing? The target audience could be of some importance,” Wesley pointed out.

“It’s called ‘Twilight.’ It’s based on a book about a teen girl who falls in love with a vampire.”

An awkward silence descended on the team.

That is, until Spike snorted. “Oh, that’s rich. We don’t know any story like that, do we kids? Sounds a bit personal, don’t you think? One of your old chums, maybe?”

“Could be vampire propaganda,” Fred volunteered. “Make more willing victims for vampires?”

“Do we know what kind of demon can even get in a film? How does that even work?” Gunn asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Possession in the classical sense is limited to specific demon types,” Wesley explained.

“Classical. As in, exorcist-style?” Gunn asked.

“Exactly. Those that do it tend to specialize in it. They can be incredibly dangerous, or at the very least your human-inhabiting demons can. Typically only demons we would describe as disembodied can perform such feats, but they become quite good at it lest they should perish,” Wes finished.

"I don't get it," Gunn said, furrowing his brow. "If it possesses the actual physical film, it can somehow project itself on the screen and send you subliminal messages?"

"We are talking of the supernatural here, Gunn. It's just as believable as judging someone's future decisions by the soundwaves of their singing voice."

"Amen, Wes," Lorne said, raising his half-empty water bottle in Wes' direction.

“So, bottom line, the Bad-us Minimus knows what it’s doing, and it probably does have a target audience. But it’s not likely it’s vampire propaganda, since we’re not looking at a vampire here,” Fred summarized.

“Perhaps it’s too soon to rule that out.” Wesley shook his head. “Vampires may not be friendly with most demons, however, disembodied demons use the form of another in much the same way vampires possess human bodies. This demon may very well be in league with vampires.”

“A trade-off,” Angel considered. “The demon brings the vamp willing victims, the vamp helps the demon get bodies.”

“Or holds down a body while the demon does its job,” Spike argued. “What makes us so sure they’re allies, Boy Scout? Maybe some vamps are threatening to kill the bodies Mr. Smoke Signal’s tryin’ to use.”

“Well, one way to find out. Spike? You and I are going in.”

“What? You want me to watch a bloody chick flick?” Spike looked appalled.

“Don’t act like you didn’t do it for Dru.”

Spike sat bolt upright in his seat. “She didn’t make me stay and watch after we’d gotten our Mickey A’s B’s and O-negs!”

“Vampires aren’t the target. We’re not susceptible to the influence. You’re going.”

“Sure thing, Boss. But I best be gettin’ a bloody bonus for goin’ above and beyond, and don’t you dare make me pay for tickets.”

“You don’t _work_ here!”

“Aha!” Spike pointed at him triumphantly. “All the more reason for me to ignore you. Forced labor’s been illegal for a good century now.” He relaxed back into his plush chair.

Angel stepped over to Spike, and leaned down to get in his face. “I’m the CEO in a branch of the world’s most powerful demonic law firm.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, head down.

Angel straightened. “Wesley? Research disembodied demons. I want a report this afternoon. Everything else can wait. Lorne? Is there some way to get us into a screening?”

“I’ll make a few phone calls. They should be doing plenty of focus groups to test audience reactions.”

“Good. Give Gunn a list of our clients in film. Both of you try to find out who’s involved.”

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Gunn interrupted.

Angel froze, eyes on Gunn. His body tensed involuntarily, an instinctive vampiric response to a challenge.

"Look, Angel, not to say this isn't important, but... Why's this the priority? Is there something we don't know about the source? The vics? I mean, not to sound like I don't care, but I'm working on a major deal for the firm right now. Old clientele. Clientele that might burn the house down if we don't get this right."

Angel opened his mouth to speak.

"Actually, I was in the middle of working on an incubus-repellant for one of our clients; very touchy stuff," Fred said apologetically. "We're really close to a breakthrough, and I'm kind of on borrowed time here already. He wants it in the next four days or no deal."

Angel's head tilted, the tiredness and disappointment already playing across his face. "Fred—"

"Angel, with all due respect, I must agree that this honestly doesn't seem high priority. Is there something else we should know?" Wes asked gently.

Angel could feel himself deflating faster than one of his breakfast blood-bags as the conversation turned against him. "Look, guys—"

"God only knows I've got better things to do than watch a chick flick!" Spike complained from Angel's side.

"SHUT UP!"

The team froze in place, all staring at Angel with their concern written all over their faces.

Angel rubbed his face with his hand and stroked his chin, not meeting their gaze. He took a deep breath. "Look. I've made the decision. Okay? This is the priority. I have my reasons. Just trust me, okay? Now get to work."

After a few awkward moments of hesitation, Wes, Lorne, and Gunn filed out of Angel’s office, leaving one team member standing conspicuously in the middle.

“I’ll read the book, then,” Fred volunteered cheerfully. “Maybe I can pick up on something you didn’t.”

“Good idea,” he replied, relieved to find Fred jumping on board. “SPIKE!”

Spike flinched. Some odd crystal decoration, which he’d been examining far too closely, was nearly knocked off the desk as he momentarily flailed his arms. He pouted indignantly. “Alright, alright! No need to shout.”


	2. Chapter 2

As the lights in the theater dimmed, Angel and Spike slinked down the aisle to a pair of open seats near the back. Spike plopped down and put his feet up on the chair in front of him, and Angel took the aisle seat beside him.

Being CEO of a Wolfram and Hart had its perks. Lorne had miraculously managed to get them into a test-screening within twenty-four hours, courtesy of a generous client. Sometimes it just paid to have demonic forces on your side.

Angel surveyed the room, registering that he was surrounded not just by young women, but older women. He tilted his head, eyeing the gaggles of thirty-something and even forty-something women scattered throughout the theater. His eyes narrowed, and he took stock of the little cluster of critics stationed off to his right, their faces mere masks of permanent ennui. Angel reached into the inside pocket of his overcoat.

“Here,” he said, handing Spike a small notebook and pen.

“What’s this for?”

Angel glared at him pointedly. “We’re press. You need a notebook. For writing notes.”

“Right.” Spike settled in, with hopeful visions of blood and gore dancing in his head.

 

4 Minutes In

Spike grinned. “Hey, look! Meals on Wheels! Don’t think I’ve ever had native, have you?”

“Spike!” Angel spat in the darkness. If looks could kill, then a middle-aged woman two rows down would’ve been shooting stakes at Spike right about now. “Shut up, people are trying to watch. Just write in your notebook.”

“I actually have to _use_ this thing?” Spike asked incredulously, waving the little memo pad petulantly and making awkward flapping noises in the dark.

“We’re _press_ , dumbass. Remember? Critics. Now just write it down.” Angel scanned the seats in front of them, but only one or two women had been distracted, and had already dismissed the noise.

“Right, then.” Spike shifted in his seat, jerking his shoulders to crack his back, and rolled his head around once to loosen his neck. He pulled out his pen, and began to narrate his note-taking. “Note…to self…try…native…cuisine.”

“Spike!”

 

6 Minutes Later

“Is anything going to happen in this movie?”

“Shut up or they’ll throw us out,” Angel whispered.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“We came here to see what the demon’s doing. We _have_ to see the whole thing,” he said in a low voice as he nodded and smiled placatingly at the critic across the aisle who, from the looks of it, critiqued more than movies, and had a special distaste for either Angel or his overcoat.

 

10 Minutes Later

“Why couldn’t they just kill the bitch with the van? She’s got the screen presence of a cereal box!”

“Spike, we’ve still got an hour or more.”

Spike groaned.

 

4 Minutes Later

Spike, much to Angel’s dismay, had taken to narrating his notes again.

“Yes,” Spike murmured. “You… _did_ …hit your head…as…a…baby.”

“Shut. Up.”

He watched quietly for a few moments. A few audience members gasped excitedly.

“What? He just waltzed right in her bloody window without so much as a ‘special delivery, bitch?' What kind of vampire is this? And he’s a stalker? If you’re going to stalk it, you’re supposed to actually _eat_ it, you ponce.”

Angel stared straight ahead as the closest audience members, a group of three thirty-somethings two rows down, glanced over their shoulders in disgust and quickly returned to the film. “Write. Quietly,” he said under his breath.

Spike let out an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, and don’t give me this crap about stalking,” Angel snapped. “I heard about you hanging around Buffy’s house.”

“And you did it to human Dru!”

“I had no soul!”

“Neither did I!”

Angel opened his mouth to retort, but pouted instead, huffing and turning his attention back to the film.

Mostly because, if he were being honest, he wished Spike still didn’t have a soul.

 

10 Minutes Later

“Finally! Some real vampires! Let’s see some blood!” Spike paused, frowning. “Why couldn’t Little Red be the shirtless one?”

“Spike,” Angel said through gritted teeth. He ripped a paper out of his own notebook, smiling with a wild glint in his eye as he crushed it in his fist. “Watch. Silently.”

 

9 Minutes Later

“So…he hears…thoughts. Can…you…hear…mine…fairy…princess?” Spike scribbled away.

“Spike!” There was a loud crack as Angel broke the cup holder in the armrest, clutching a piece of plastic. He smiled, placating, as several heads briefly turned to stare, searching for the sound’s source. The critics across the aisle were wide-eyed, pens frozen in midair above their chicken-scratched notepads. Angel laughed a little nervously.


	3. Chapter 3

Fred sat on the floor of Wes’ office as she pored over Twilight in its novel form. Wesley sat close by, his books spread out across the floor and his desk, all open to various pictures of demons.

He sighed, and set down a book on his desk with a loud thump. “Any luck?”

Fred looked up, laying the book pages-down to save her place. She leaned back to stretch. “Well, the main character is kind of whiny, and it’s not too hard to figure out who the vamp is. But it’s really boring at first, and—well, the vampires have to be the weirdest version of vampires ever. I mean, I know Angel can see daylight with those special windows in his office, but—”

“They walk about in daylight?” Wes repeated doubtfully.

“Yeah. And… I really don’t know what to make of this girl. Sometimes she’s whiny and bitchy, then she complains about how ugly she is compared to this guy, one minute she’s in an advanced placement biology class, and the next minute she’s so dense she thinks he’s some kind of superhero and NEVER suspects he’s a vampire. I really don’t get the point of drawing this out when it’s so obvious.”

“Well, why on earth is it so popular, then?”

“Porn. The super-hot boy saves the girl.”

Wesley froze awkwardly next to the desk, gazing carefully into space toward one of his bookshelves. “I see.”

“What’ve you found?” Fred replied chipperly.

Wes recovered himself, picking up an open book and flipping through pages. “There are disembodied demons, as I said, but there seem to be a select few that use inanimate objects instead of bodies.”

“How few?”

“None that I’ve found,” he admitted, placing the book on top of a stack. He hung his head, crossing his arms to hide his dismay.

“Well, there’s gotta be at least one, right? So when we find it we’ll be sure.” She picked up her book again, and paused. "Hey, Wes? Why do you think Angel wanted us to drop everything for this? I mean, it's not like it's that pressing, right? Comparatively speaking. Do you think he knows something we don't?"

Wes thought for a moment, shaking his head. He pulled off his glasses, holding the earpiece to his lips. “Perhaps it has to do with the nature of the case as we already know it. It still vexes me why a demon would select that particular audience to hypnotize. Surely there were films that could reach a broader base.”

“Well, we’ll figure that out when we know what they’re being hypnotized to think,” soothed Fred.

Wes half-smiled, and seated himself heavily behind his desk. “Yes, I suppose we will.”


	4. Chapter 4

Spike and Angel stared in shock at the screen. Angel’s jaw hung open, his face contorted in disgust, his anger toward Spike forgotten.

“…the _bloody hell_! He _glitters_! He bloody _sparkles_! That’s not the skin of a killer, it’s the skin of a Vegas showgirl!” Spike’s face twisted in sudden rage. “This. Will. Not. Stand!” He attempted to rise from his seat, but Angel’s arm forced him back down.

“Listen!” he hissed. “We have to see the whole thing. We need to know what this demon is doing. If you don’t shut up, we’ll both get kicked out.” He glanced at the screen, scrunching up his nose. “This is a necessary evil.”

Spike slumped back into his seat, thoroughly disgusted.

 

8 Minutes Later

The women surrounding them chuckled.

“Oh, I’ll approve of you Bella,” Spike sneered, his chair creaking as he shifted uncomfortably. “With a bottle of whiskey as a chaser.”

Angel put his head back, closing his eyes. He rubbed his face with his hands.

 

11 Minutes Later

Spike shook his head. “Why is there so much human food in a vampire movie? Stop watching the humans eat and just EAT the humans!”

“Spike,” Angel said softly. His face rested in his hand, his elbow on the ruined armrest to help prop up his head. “We’re an hour through already. It’s nearly over. Just STOP. TALKING.”

“Psh. I’m a CRITIC, remember? I’m entitled to bitch.” He waved the notebook in Angel’s face.

 

25 Minutes Later

“Oh, the pepper spray will help. Buy a lighter, bitch. When in doubt, you kill it with fire. And there you have the benefits of smoking. Smart people carry lighters about as a matter of course.”

Angel’s expression was reduced to a numb, bored stare. His notebook lay forgotten in his lap, the primary contents having nothing to do with the movie. Instead, they were a mess of death threats and laments that Dru had sired the thing next to him, and that he had opted to watch this film. When he'd thought about the good old days, he hadn't meant his time with Spike. It was his own fault, he knew. He wanted the old-school case. But he'd wanted his team, not the return of his bratty little hellspawn and a movie so achingly offensive that he almost wished he were soulless again to ease the suffering. Too bad he needed another vampire to resist the film's influence.

He sighed heavily, glaring at Grandsire's little hellraiser, who continued jotting down hate-speech in his little black memo pad.  Why did he do this to himself?

 

Spike and Angel stood in the alleyway. Angel’s eyes were blank as his brain tried to process what he’d just seen. A confused, almost constipated expression stretched across his face. Spike paced madly behind him, shaking his head.

“What… the _bloody_ hell did I just watch?” Spike spat, gesticulating wildly. He paused long enough to jab a finger in Angel’s direction. “You!” He moved to get in Angel’s face, inches apart. “This is your fault. I had to watch your alter-ego seduce a dumb bitch that makes Harmony look like a Nobel prize-winner!”

Angel whirled on him. “I am NOT Edward! I save lives. I don’t sparkle!”

“Not in public, but neither did he. Now I know what you’re doin’ alone in that nice, plush office all day long. I bet you let the sunshine in so you can practice your Vegas routine. Do you have a leotard? Maybe one of those nice feather boas?”

“I AM NOT EDWARD!”

“Prove it.”

“I have WAY better taste in women.”

“I don’t know, mate. How many years were you with Darla?”

“Enough! What did we learn?” Angel snapped.

“That you’re more of a Nancy Boy than I thought!”

“The demon, Spike! What did we learn about the demon? Or the film?”

“Worse than advertised.”

“There has to be something… We weren’t hypnotized, as expected. Did you get the reactions of the other viewers?”

“Practically creamed themselves in the second act.”

“Alright, that’s enough! Let’s go see what the others have found.”


	5. Chapter 5

“So it is vampaganda! Fred declared. “It makes vampires look harmless and misunderstood. Or, at least it’s supposed to. I mean, it’s obviously a chick flick, right?”

Angel surveyed his team again from his seat on the edge of his desk. They had temporarily regrouped, and he and Spike had been first to report. Gunn and Lorne sat on the couch by the window, with Gunn resting his arm on the back of the couch, his lap covered in papers. Fred stood almost dead center in the room, her face animated as her train of thought went full speed ahead. Wesley stood calmly by the door with his hands in his pockets, and Spike had returned to the plush chair, lazily tossing a ball at the ceiling and catching it repeatedly.

Angel sighed. “In theory, yeah, but… There’s really nothing admirable about this vampire. I mean…” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “He _sparkles_ , Fred. Like… Like he _glitters_. What woman wants to date a man who glitters?”

“Well… I can kind of understand,” she replied quietly.

Spike's ball dropped to the floor. Five heads slowly turned toward hers, their jaws twitching and eyes widening like ping-pong balls.

“Well!” she blurted defensively. “High school is like hell for most people and when you’re in hell…or… some other demon dimension…”

Angel’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.

“You keep hoping someone will come pull you out of it. And if it’s a hot, brooding guy who happens to hate himself, you don’t really care at that point. Because he saved you.”

There was a quiet, reflective moment before Spike rose to his feet. “I won’t have you insulting your own intelligence. That garbage bag with googly eyes isn’t your average teen girl, and it sure as hell isn’t a girl smart enough to make me back into a flesh-bag,” he said. “Didn’t work out like we planned, but you did find a way.”

“I found some possible demon suspects,” Wesley said, not-so-subtly changing the subject. “Hylex demon seems the most likely. It prefers to frequently jump from body to body, often using inanimate objects. It’s capable of hypnotizing humans before it invades their bodies. But the target is still a riddle. Why young girls and middle-aged women?”

“So we’re still looking at a vampire ally?” Angel asked.

“It’s possible, but difficult to say why,” said Wes.

“Well… we can still kill the hypno-demon right? So let’s get on it,” Gunn pressed.

“Yeah, but how many of them are involved? Maybe a new one will just crop up,” Fred countered.

“Guys, I hate to crash the brooding party, but maybe there are alternative tactics here,” Lorne spoke up.

“What do you suggest?” said Angel, frowning as Spike plunked back down in his seat and propped his feet up.

“Well, the whole plan is centered around a movie based on a book with a very overused plot. I mean, girl meets vampire has been done to death, right? Even Dracula was after the ladies. I mean, Angel, buddy, even you’ve been there. And you have one of the best legal teams in the universe. You could claim copyright issues, problems with the movie rights, or even just find a better vampire story.”

“And if there’s no movie, there’s no plan,” Gunn finished.

“Alright. Lorne, you track down similar stories,” Angel ordered.

“Will do, Big Guy. But—”

" _But_?" Angel repeated. "But what?"

"Well... Angel, I know you said this was top priority, but... Is it really? It looks kind of conspiratorial, but we don't even know what the plan is, and, well, I've definitely got other business, and the rest of us—"

"Lorne!" Angel stopped him. He rubbed his face again. He licked his lips, and stared up at the ceiling. Why the hell were the demons top priority? Why couldn't they just understand and follow his lead here? It was one case. Couldn't they give him one case? Cordelia would have supported him here.

Cordelia.

"Hmph. Well, I say it's top priority. You haven't seen the bloody thing. It's a right horror, I'll tell you that. Needs to be stopped." Spike muttered.

Angel lowered his gaze and found them still staring expectantly. "Just... Just trust me, okay?" he said finally.

Lorne opened and shut his mouth a few times. "Right. Whatever you say, Boss."

"Okay." Angel nodded, reassuring himself more than them. “Gunn? Start researching copyright laws we can use.”

“I’m on it,” Gunn said, a faint sound of defeat creeping into his voice before he turned and followed Lorne out.

Angel quietly shook it off and turned to his remaining team. “In the meantime, I think we need more demon research just in case we have to at least try to get rid of it the old-fashioned way before it gets anyone.”

 “We don’t want innocent people walking up to vampires thinking they’re fun dates,” Fred agreed.

"Hey!"

"Except you, Spike," Fred soothed.

"Spike? You can go." Angel said firmly.

"Finally!" Spike hopped up and ambled happily out the door.

“Perhaps we need to trap it,” Wes said thoughtfully. “If we could somehow restrict the demon to one body or object, it would die with it.”

“How can we be sure?” Angel asked suspiciously.

“We can’t.”

“What if this object breaks and just releases the demon?”

“At the very least, it could buy us some time to figure out what to do with it, and perhaps we could interrogate it for further information,” Wes argued.

“I think I might know what to do with it,” Fred said softly.

Angel and Wes turned to her expectantly.

“Banish the trapped demon to another dimension. Then it won’t matter if it’s released.”

They stood in the midst of a pregnant pause. No one looked at each other, each finding inanimate objects to fixate on as they retreated into the privacy of their own minds. Wes and Angel had the distinct sensation that might accompany hearing a lover’s spat while trapped in an elevator, and felt the urge to ignore, with deliberate precision, the elephant in the room.

“Sounds like a plan,” Angel said at last. “Wes?”

“I’ll uh… hunt down the necessary incantations and such. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” He coughed. “However, creating a vessel to trap it in might prove trickier than just dredging up the incantations. I’ll require Fred’s assistance.”

“Done,” she said, smiling.

Fred began to follow him out into the lobby.

“Fred. Hold on a minute,” Angel called out.

She turned back and approached his desk. “What d’you need?”

Angel hesitated. “Look… I just… I noticed this whole thing seems to be bringing up some…" Angel paused. He'd thought so much about his good old days, he'd forgotten some of his good old days were more like his worst Whirlwind days for Fred. "I noticed it's bringing up some bad memories. Are you… Are you okay?” he asked gently.

Fred tilted her head and smiled, almost dotingly, like he was her little boy and he'd just said he was worried about his mommy. “Angel, I appreciate your concern and all, but… I’m a big girl. Those years were the worst of my life, yeah. But if that hadn’t happened, I’d have just gotten my Ph.D like your typical nerd. I mean, don’t get me wrong!” She held up her hands. “I would’ve loved that. But what I’m doing now? Running my own lab, fighting demons, saving lives—I wouldn’t really want it any other way. I mean, what better way to use your talents than saving the world, right?”

Angel half-smiled. He wasn’t exactly sorry for Fred’s entrance to his life and his team. “Alright. Go help Wes with the demon-catching prep.”

“I’m on it,” she said with a smile.

Angel sighed again, as he'd been doing a lot lately. Maybe it really had been a bad plan. He needed to think about his team before he handed out orders without regard to their needs. But he couldn't sacrifice the mission, could he? His shoulders slumped, and he brooded in the quiet of his empty office.

 

The next day, Angel sulked into the lab, having waited out the night sleeplessly (typical for vampires, but no so typical since he’d started working for Wolfram & Hart). He caught sight of Wes and Fred arguing with another lab technician. “Fred!” he called.

The long-haired technician scurried away at Angel’s approach. “What’ve we got?”

Fred held up what looked akin to a short rocket launcher with one much fatter end. It had a sleek silvery exterior covered in engraved runes, and a small green light underneath the opening. “We’ve designed a vessel that combines the proper incantation to coax it into a body—or object—with a sort of sensor designed to locate the demon. I switch it on, and if the demon’s within range, it will automatically trigger a suction to trap the demon inside. Should take roughly twenty seconds. But I added a manual suction feature just in case,” she added.

“And how do we get it to the hell dimension?”

“Leave that to us. I’ll help Wesley with the incantation.”

“Then we’re set?”

“All systems go.”

Angel smiled softly, a small wave of relief passing over him. "Then we'll go tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Angel!” Fred gasped. She stood on the street-corner outside the theater, not far from the streetlight behind her. She squinted a little to see down the sidewalk in the dark. “Shouldn’t you be in position already?” she whispered.

“No. We’re calling this off. Is that off?” he said, gesturing for the vessel.

“Well—I mean—the sensor’s enabled, but it hasn’t been triggered by anything yet. I can disable it if you really want, but what about—”

“Just disable it now. It’s important.”

“But… But what about the demon?”

“Just _turn off_ the machine and get back to the car. I’ll meet you there. You just have to disable it, okay?”

“But everyone’s in—” Fred stared past him, squinting into the dark again. Then her eyes began to flit back and forth. She slowly backed away as the Angel in front of her turned to see the Angel behind him.

The Angel in the distance, several yards away, stood still with his arms outstretched. “Fred,” he called, his voice even. “Keep. The machine. On.”

Fred stepped away slowly, uncertain. The others were already in position; Gunn and Wes were stationed inside, ready to knock the demon out of the film, and Spike was out back by the other exit. But she needed backup in a hurry.

Time seemed to stand still momentarily, as the three waited for one to make a move.

“GUNN!” Fred yelled as she switched on the machine manually. If it wasn’t Angel, there was only one thing it could be.

“That was very stupid of you,” said Faux-Angel.

“Fred!” Angel yelled, rushing forward.

Fred didn’t have a chance to turn, but yelped in surprise as an arm tightened around her neck. The vessel clattered to the ground, as a sickly orange glow slowly brightened its insides, growing in strength.

Angel took a swing at Faux-Angel. His fist lined up with Faux-Angel’s jaw and sailed straight through thin air.

Faux-Angel smiled and cocked an eyebrow as Angel blinked in bewilderment. “Cute.” His face brightened, and he leaned in. “Why you hittin’ yourself? Stop hitting yourself!” He chuckled. “Hey, hero, maybe you should go for the one choking your girlfriend instead.”

Angel’s eyes darted over to Fred, who was still struggling with her apparently human captor. She bit down hard on his hand, but he bashed her head against the brick wall of the theater in response.

Angel took a last, frustrated look at his alter-ego and lunged toward Fred and her attacker with his game-face on. The man dropped Fred at his feet as Angel grabbed his throat. But instead of clutching his hands to his throat, he grabbed Angel’s arms, and loosed a growl as a huge set of fangs extended where his canines should’ve been. His pupils narrowed into slits, his eyes changing to a pale green, and Angel barked in pain and surprise as claws dug into his arms underneath the elbow. Angel moved in for a bite at his throat, but the demon, whatever it was, ripped at the ligaments under his elbows. Angel growled in pain as he lost his grip.

The demon smashed Angel against the wall, but before he could bite, a shot rang out from Gunn’s rifle.

Angel watched the demon’s fangs retract and his eyes roll back in his head before the creature slumped to the ground.

A few feet away, Wesley was hunched over Fred, who was slowly coming to.

“The vessel…” she muttered.

Angel bent down and scooped it up, maneuvering carefully as his arms healed, and examined the opening. The light had gone out, but it didn’t appear to have caught anything. Angel looked up at his team, who were eyeing him expectantly.

“No go. Whatever it was, we didn’t catch it.”

“Well, it can’t have helped that it wasn’t a Hylex demon,” Wesley observed. He eyed the corpse thoughtfully as Gunn helped Fred to her feet. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with that particular type. But that begs the question of what possessed the film.”

“Whatever it was, it can mimic other people’s appearances,” Angel said. “Not this guy, but the other thing.” He gestured behind him, silently fuming at its disappearance.

“Other thing?” Gunn glanced around nervously.

“It was mimicking Angel,” Fred muttered.

“So this thing was wearing your face? Do we need to check everybody?” Gunn asked suspiciously.

“No. He probably cut and ran to get out of range of the vessel.” Angel said, waving the contraption a little in frustration.

“There goes the parallel dimension plan,” Gunn huffed. “So what now?”

“Back to square one," Angel said tiredly. "Try to figure out what it is.” His heart, long-dead, sank down his chest. He stared at the machine in his arms. He'd wasted his team's time and efforts. He just wasn't the same Angel anymore; he couldn't lead his team on one simple case.

“Didn’t it try to fight you or turn off the machine?” Wesley asked.

“No. I tried to punch it and my fist went right through it. It wasn’t exactly worried.”

“So it probably couldn’t have touched the machine,” Gunn finished the thought. “So we’ve got a shapeshifting ghost or something?”

“Hey! Everybody down!” Spike yelled, rounding the corner, fangs bared. He rushed the group and jumped, tackling Angel to the ground.

“Spike? What the—”

Spike socked him in the jaw, and they struggled amid the protests of the others. Gunn and Wes finally pulled Spike off of Angel.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Angel.

Spike stared at Angel, seemingly snapping out of it. “He… That… It was Angel, and then me, and then it was Angel, and I couldn’t punch it, and… and… It…" He glared at the team who now gawked at him. "You didn’t have to watch it!” he whined, flailing. “The thing made Bella Swan. And… And getting… getting away!” He pointed off down the street, jabbing his finger at empty space. “I have to punch it! Violence! I need violence! These hands!” he fumed, waving them in Gunn’s face. “These hands need to just… OH!” He mimed strangling something, his face scrunching up. “And… and... GUUUUUUH! GAH!” He kicked and punched at the air.

“Wait, you say it was _you_?”

“Yes, Professor Missing-the-point, it bloody well changed into _me_. Then it switched back to his ugly mug,” he said, jabbing a finger at Angel. “Sodding poor choice on his part.”

“No… no, that may be just the clue…” Wesley seemed to zone out into his own private world for a moment, the wheels in his head spinning.

“What? What’ve you got, Wes?” Angel asked cautiously.

“It mimicked Angel and Spike, but no one else here. And the film… The audience. The audience makes sense now!” He mumbled, his eyes widening. He gaped at the others, as though it should be obvious to them, too.

“There’s a demon that wants to target teen girls?” Fred asked, puzzled.

“Not just teen girls. _Slayers_.”

They froze, processing the revelation.

“The First,” said Angel, his body tensing as the implications sank in.

“Precisely,” Wes said softly. “It only changed into you and Spike because it can only appear as one who has died. You couldn’t hit it because it has no tangible form.”

“And it needs a lackey ‘cause it can’t fight by itself with no body,” Gunn added.

“So this is a hit on the slayer army,” Fred whispered, awed. “It wants to get to potential slayers before they’re old enough to be activated and lure them to their deaths. Make them think vampires are cuddly boyfriend-types.”

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to stop it now?” Gunn bristled. “We can’t trap it, we can’t keep it from getting in the film, and we can’t keep fighting off every demon it sends to do its dirty work.” He glowered at each of them in turn.

“Best we can hope for right now is that maybe Lorne found something,” Angel said. “Maybe we can stop the distribution so none of the potential slayers see it.”

“For how long? Even if we take it to court over copyright issues, what happens if we lose?” Gunn pressed.

“We’re the top demonic law firm in the world,” Angel reassured him, feeling some of his old fight coming back, but using most of it to fight back the panic. “We can handle it.”

“We’re talking about the _First_ here, right? As in, the First that made Buffy destroy Sunnydale? First Evil? Who’s to say the writer or the execs didn’t have some kind of demon deal? What if they had a deal with the _First_? Nothing we throw at them in court is going to work then!”

“We’ll figure something out,” Angel repeated calmly.

Gunn relaxed a fraction. He snorted. “Yeah, we better hope so.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Well, we’ve got good news and bad news. Preferences?” Lorne began, spreading his arms in invitation.

Angel sighed, folding his arms across his chest in typical brooding fashion. “Just give us the bad news first.”

“Right. Well, after sloshing my way through some of the most ghastly fiction ever—mind you, you will owe me _big time_ —”

“Skip to it, Lorne,” Angel huffed.

“I wasn’t able to find a single vampire story we could legitimately claim plagiarism for.”

Their faces fell, and none of them would look at each other but for Lorne.

“I mean, guys… _They sparkle_. I’m not a miracle worker, okay? _No one_ else would write vampires as closet queens with skin made of a girl’s best friend. They just wouldn’t!” Lorne wrung his hands awkwardly.

“And the good news?” Fred asked hopefully.

“Well,” Lorne perked up instantly, “I found out a thing or two about the movie production that might be useful,” he said, shuffling through his stack of papers and yanking a few out to hand over to Angel. “It went from book to movie _way_ too fast. Like, within a few months. Rumor mill says it’s definitely a demon deal, but no word on who made it. We could convince the studio execs to wait for a bigger audience. Bigger cash flow and all that. I mean, the author of the books is already planning sequels. They’d be better off waiting so they can get the rights to all the movies and have a bigger audience.”

Angel perused the files. “How do you propose we convince them of that? Why would they listen to us? We’re not part of the original deal.” He felt a little twinge of panic creeping up his chest. If the First made the deal, they could be screwed. He carefully pushed it down, mindful of controlling his face.

“Well, maybe we don’t have to break the deal. Just renegotiate the terms,” Gunn murmured. “We could buy ourselves some time, at least,” he said more loudly. “Convince them they’d get a better deal if the leading demonic law firm irons out the contract. It’s worth a shot, right?”

 

Angel sat alone in his office, lost in his own reverie behind his desk. Night had fallen, and most of the Wolfram & Hart employees had already clocked out, leaving him very much alone but for Harmony, still schmucking around at her desk to little purpose as per usual.

His little bonding-time jaunt with his team having come to a head, he’d spent the day after staring at crap lawsuits filed by demons or for demons while Gunn worked on the Twilight negotiations. His gut twisted in knots, and he steepled his fingers, imagining Cordelia’s face. The room was still around him, but a bridled turmoil bubbled inside. The First, whom Buffy and her team had fought so hard to stop from destroying the world, had nearly struck a massive blow to the cause on his watch. That is, his watch from the tower of Wolfram and Hart, the demonic law firm he’d been fighting against the past four years.

He wanted the slap in the face Cordelia would’ve given him. The furious rant from Buffy. Hell, even Angelus would do, to taunt him or give him an excuse to believe the mistakes of the past few months had been caused by a demon, not his ensouled self.

To make matters worse, he'd found out the whole thing only by sheer dumb luck. What he'd actually been doing was pulling his team away from their necessary work for his own selfish reasons. It had never been about the mission, had it? No, he just didn't want to be alone in his office, the selfish prick. He was just telling himself it was about helping people. He hadn't really thought the little film was important, and he'd jeopardized their opportunity to hit demons where it really counted.

“Whoa… little dark in here, man,” Gunn said, flipping the light switch as he peeked in the door.

Angel straightened and coughed a little as his eyes readjusted. “Yeah. Vampire.”

“Right,” said Gunn with a nod. “Well, uh, just thought you should know. Made the negotiations, got a decent deal. They’re holding off the movie release for a few years.” He handed Angel the file, with a copy of the revised contract.

Angel barely glanced at it. “Good. Good work, Gunn.” He folded his hands on his desk, and looked up at Gunn.

Gunn eyed him uneasily. “‘Good work?’ That’s it? Not even a little fired up?”

Angel started to say something, but merely looked down at his desk.

“Come on, we just dealt a big blow to the First. This is what we’re here to do, right?”

Slowly, Angel raised his head. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s what we’re here to do.”

Gunn gave a crooked smile. “Man, I know we were doubting you there, but... You've still got your instincts. You made a good call."

Angel glanced down at his hands. "I try."

Gunn smiled again. "See you tomorrow, Boss.” He turned and left Angel alone to his thoughts.


End file.
